


sunburst

by dreamsailing



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Blind Character, Coming of Age, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, blind!minhyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 22:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18061673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsailing/pseuds/dreamsailing
Summary: Beyond colors and figures, there are matters which the eyes may not see, but the heart recognizes.





	sunburst

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to expand one of my drabbles so some of you may recognize a scene I lifted from my drabble dump. 
> 
> I haven't written long fics in quite a while so please bear with my rustiness. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this one ☀
> 
> Warning: I talk about the sun way too much.

Seongwu first saw Minhyun when he was ten.

Summer was ending then. The afternoon breeze carrying with it what remains of the sweet summer air, cooling once the sun lowered itself by the end of the day. A refreshing consolation after hours under the sun’s still unyielding heat.

Seongwu’s family has just moved in across Minhyun’s. He had been busy then, dutifully fulfilling his obligation by helping around their new house.

He wonders if the other boy has always been there; seated primly at the steps of their porch with a book pressed against his lap, dainty fingers skittering over the pages of his book. Seongwu wonders if the boy was there during the afternoon of Seongwu’s move; has always been overlooked by Seongwu’s busy eyes.

But with his hands finally free of boxes to move or books to carry to his room, Seongwu takes to spend his free time by sitting on a chair at their own porch.

The boy looks just about his age. His fringe trimmed to fall just above his eyebrows. It was a horrible haircut, which made him look like a bowl befit to be poured with a ladle of soup.

Barely-muted chuckles tumble out of Seongwu’s mouth at the thought. The ball in his hands slips from his hold, bouncing down the steps and down the pathway leading to the one-lane road separating the village lots.

The boy across the road is plucked from his book, head coming up and eyes scanning the vicinity. Seongwu is almost toppled off his seat, breath momentarily held as the boy’s eyes fall on him. But they’re gone quickly. The boy’s gaze barely regarding him. He soon returns to his book.

Seongwu breathes out a sigh. If it is one of disappointment or relief, he does not know. Maybe a part of him was glad he wasn’t caught comically laughing by himself. Or maybe a greater part of him wanted to be noticed, for the boy’s eyes to meet his and be regarded. And maybe, _ultimately_ , to gain a friend out of the encounter.

Being the new kid was tough. The neighborhood kids already had their close clique to spend their afternoons with, friends to go to school with once the new school year begins. Seongwu was far from being introverted but it takes time for him to open up to people and to adapt to his new environment. And so, for the past two weeks since his family moved in, he only settled at looking at others through his window, listening to their laughter cutting through midday air, their breaths, ragged and hard as they run along the road. Seongwu’s envy-stricken eyes could only follow their backs as far as they could. 

The clouds of laughter in his mind soon dissipate and his eyes fall once more on the boy across the road. His knees a distinct shade of pink despite being bathed in the yellow afternoon sunlight.

He rises from his seat, the boy oblivious to his movement, and goes down the few steps to the pathway to retrieve his ball.

He picks it up and immediately returns. He leaves the business of fostering friendships for another day.

 ☀

 

They formally meet two weeks after, when Seongwu has kicked his ball too hard it landed and rolled close to the steps where the boy sat still with another book on his lap.

Seongwu internally debated with himself: whether to go retrieve his ball immediately and face the inevitable meeting with the boy, or to retrieve the ball later when the boy has gone back inside his house.

He nibbles on his lips in thought, eyes flickering from the boy, the ball, and the almost setting sun.

The boy still has his head lowered to his book and an idea strikes Seongwu at that moment. His feet carry him carefully, stealthily as they could, across the road and into the boy’s family lot.

The blades of the well-mowed grass are fresh under the soles of his shoes, slightly damp as they have been sprinkled a few hours ago. The ball is only a few steps away. Seongwu leans down, stretched arms reaching for the ball. A tongue darts out to wet his lips in concentration, eyes darting to the boy for a fraction of second and back to the ball, the pads of his fingers finally reaching it.

“Is it a basketball or a soccer ball?” A voice speaks, sending Seongwu off balance.

Seongwu steadies himself first, hugs the ball close to his chest before his eyes finally follow the owner of the voice.

He looks younger up-close. Eyes clear like the morning sky, cheeks stuffed with youthful plumpness. The hair framing his face emphasize its smallness.

“A soccer ball.” Seongwu responds.

“Ah.” The book is closed with a thud and the boy stands.

Seongwu thinks they might be of the same height. The boy’s shirt is free from any crumple, a crisply ironed white shirt tucked neatly into brown shorts. A stark comparison to Seongwu’s which is filled with lines from the front to back, evidence of his arduous afternoon activities.

Although he notices one peculiar thing: the boy’s eyes still has to meet his in their short exchange. They settle above his shoulder, looking past him.

“Figured it by the sound when it landed.” The boy speaks with a lilt in his voice. He tucks his book to the side and extends a hand in greeting. “I’m Minhyun.”

Seongwu studies the hand which is extended more to his right. His eyes leave to look at the boy’s face again, sight still settled far away. Seongwu twists his body and receives the boy’s hand nonetheless.

“Seongwu.” He says in a breath, gripping the hand lightly before letting go.

A short laugh falls from the boy’s lips. “Thank you for taking my hand. Was it extended far?”

Seongwu must have made a noise of confusion for the boy follows his words almost instantly.

“I’m blind. I only estimate where to extend my hand basing from the direction of the voice.”

The information tears a gasp from Seongwu, his mind blanking and stirring at the same time. Questions slowly start to chase around his head over and over, like a never-ending carousel. _How? Why?_ They scrape his throat, searching for exit, but Seongwu swallows them down. He settles with a meek _I’m sorry._

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Minhyun replies, voice warm and resonant, still in the afternoon air.

Seongwu chances a look at him. Minhyun’s face is devoid of any trace of hurt. He still wears the smile he had when he first offered his hand to Seongwu. A slight tugging at the ends of his mouth. Genuine. It eases the tightness Seongwu didn’t know was there inside of him.

“Say,” Minhyun’s voice splinters the air, wiping the last bit of awkwardness between them. “Are you good at sports, Seongwu?”

Seongwu is reminded of the ball in his hold, the low laugh which erupts from him is unrestrained. The cause of this entire encounter serves to be enough proof how Seongwu still has to practice lots to perfect the coordination among his limbs.

“I am not.”

Minhyun’s smile grows bigger, shoulders relaxing at the lightness of Seongwu’s response.

“Well, they do say practice is key.”

Words are then easily exchange, their laughter mixing and filling the quiet summer afternoon.

In the horizon, the sun orange as yolk, lowers itself. Light withdraws and dusk crawls in.

It’s the end of the day.

Seongwu has gained a new friend in Minhyun.

☀

 

Seongwu learns the cause behind Minhyun’s blindness just two days after. Minhyun was the one who spoke of it first, sensing the curiosity radiating off Seongwu who was still too shy to ask himself.

It was congenital, Minhyun says. His mother was exposed to a certain virus during pregnancy which robbed him of his sight before he could even meet the world. Minhyun expounds that the exposure could have caused more handicaps, such as deafness and other dysfunctions. With a disarming smile, he tells Seongwu how fortunate he feels it only cost him his sight.

Seongwu wonders where he draws his optimism from. How he can still beam at the world, bright as the morning sun, when he himself has never once witnessed it. His positivity puzzles Seongwu; his entire youthful being already an enigma. How can one remain grateful despite being deprived of a gift so precious?

But the sound of Minhyun’s warm laughter, his voice which delivers words with inexplicable grace, and his eyes, rich like the earth although unseeing are enough to chase away the grief churning deep in Seongwu’s belly.

☀

 

It slowly became a routine.

Seongwu coming to visit Minhyun with always something in hand—a ball, a glove, a toy he has just assembled—passing them to Minhyun’s hands to feel. Lips bursting with stories to tell: how his day went, interesting snaps about the neighborhood, the weather, everything under the sun.

Minhyun greets him with his books. Blank, pages filled with raised dots instead of words.

 _It’s Braille_ , he tells Seongwu. The writing system used by the visually impaired.

Minhyun places Seongwu’s hand over the page, guiding Seongwu’s fingers over the bumps. They’re unfamiliar and complex, Seongwu says, drawing a laugh out of the other.

“Everything’s difficult at first.” Minhyun says, the pads of his fingers dancing over the pages, registering every vowel, consonant, punctuation the blocks of dots signify.

Seongwu only looks over silently as Minhyun continues to trace across the page, eyelashes fluttering against skin as his eyes close, letting himself be plunged into the world that comes alive behind his eyelids.

The faintest smile visits Minhyun’s lips. The passage he’s tracing must have been interesting.

“You just need to have the patience to go through it.”

☀

 

Seasons change. Months and years passed.

Minhyun and Seongwu developed a bond worthy of all the stars dusting the night sky.

 

They were thirteen when Seongwu first played Minhyun a song.

A guitar, gifted by his mother on his thirteenth birthday. Seongwu sprints to Minhyun’s house, but not without hugging his mother tightly in gratitude, with his cheeks bunched up in eagerness to share the news.

He hastily greets Minhyun’s mother who opens the door for him and races towards Minhyun’s room. His heels digging against the wooden floor, resounding thuds underneath his sole as he continues to charge. He enters the room with a loud bang. Minhyun who sits by his table looks not a tad startled, as if he has seen Seongwu coming.

“Any song you would like to request?” Seongwu asks and strums the strings, testing. Minhyun’s ears perk with it. He leaves the table to sit with his friend on the bed.

“A guitar?” Minhyun reaches over and Seongwu guides his hand over the slender curve of the guitar. His palm glides down smoothly. “She’s beautiful.”

“A gift from mom.” Seongwu says through his biggest smile. Minhyun can feel the happiness radiating off him. It was infectious. The giddiness started to rub on him. “Now I don’t have to borrow Jaehwan’s.”

Minhyun names a song and Seongwu happily complies, strumming the strings of his new guitar with ease. They sing together, voices bouncing off the walls. Loud, to their hearts content.

Minhyun names one after another, and another, until they come with a list. Seongwu played until the pads of his fingers hurt, until his voice sounded hoarse from overuse. Minhyun was losing his as well, and soon they both sounded like sheep wailing at the top of a hill.

They fall on their backs, chest heaving up and down in exhaustion. Adrenaline courses through their veins, their hearts pumping hard inside their chests.

Seongwu looks over to see nothing but exhilaration painted across Minhyun’s face.

This, Seongwu decides, is the best way to lose one’s breath.

 

During summer when they were fifteen, when the heat was unforgiving and the wind licks like tongues of fire, Seongwu brings Minhyun to the lake with calloused fingers wrapped around thin wrist.

It’s a hidden spot, veiled by thick rows of trees and clouding shrubs. In their visits, never have they had company apart from each other.

Seongwu prefers staying under the cool shade of trees while Minhyun likes to sit where the sun's rays’ peek through the leaves, the branches. He has always loved the touch of daylight on his skin. Like a flower leaning towards the sun, soaking up its radiance, Minhyun would always stay where the sun could reach him.

Sometimes they would be sitting under one shade, head cradled on the other’s lap. Seongwu’s eyes are closed while listening to the sound of the surrounding stillness while Minhyun quietly traces his _Brailles_. Minhyun likes to throw questions at times like this, face hopeful while he waits for Seongwu’s responses. Seongwu always tries his best, disliking the feeling of being a miser at times his mouth is bare of answers.

"Seongwu," Minhyun mutters softly, hand leaving his book to raise it in the air. It stretches where the sun pours, rays captured in the cup of his palm.

Seongwu hums his response against the passing breeze. Calm as it ruffles their hair, gentle as it caresses their skin.

"What color is the sun?"

Seongwu opens his eyes to see the sky bathed in the softest blue. The sun is nestled at the center of its expanse, reflected on the waters of the lake down below. Its majestic glow is tempered by the diamonds dancing over the lake’s surface, its perfect roundness altered with the movement of water.

"It's yellow."

"And what does yellow feel like?"

"Yellow," Seongwu trails, searching for the words to best describe it, "it's the color of happiness."

"Happiness?" Minhyun asks. There's a smile blooming on his lips. "How so?"

"The giddiness you feel when you're happy. When you hear your favorite song. When you laugh over a joke. That's yellow."

Minhyun hums appreciatively, going over Seongwu’s words in his head again.

"Although when it sets, it changes to orange."

"Orange?"

"Orange, something warm." Seongwu says, thinking back to the many sunsets he has shared with Minhyun at the latter’s porch. It brings a flood of warmth in his chest. "Like a hug or a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day."

A soft chuckle falls from Minhyun’s lips. He closes his book and sets it down the grass. He reaches out to Seongwu and the latter readily takes his hand, guiding him until they’re next to each other, shoulders pressed together. "Orange. I can imagine."

"How about the sky?" Minhyun asks after seconds of shared silence.

"It's blue. Soft blue on clear days, navy before it rains.” Seongwu finds his words easily this time. Blue has always been his favorite.

"And how does it feel?"

A gust of wind passes. The leaves above and the grass below them sway with it.

Seongwu leans over and sweeps the hair out of Minhyun’s face.

"Soft blue is calmness, serenity. Like being wrapped in your blanket while raindrops roll down the windowsill, and lazy Saturdays with nothing to think about. Navy blue, on the other hand, is the color of sadness. It's the color of yearning. It’s when you're missing someone."

The smile diminishes on Minhyun’s lips, but it does not leave completely. “I think I’ve felt blue a number of times.”

Frown stitches on Seongwu’s temple. Minhyun’s words settle inside of him, pinning in his gut like an anchor.

In the five years he has known Minhyun, never has the latter showed his blue phases. Minhyun was always yellow: Bright. Radiating. A son of the sun.

The confession burns a mark on Seongwu’s heart. Of course there will be things Minhyun would keep to himself, situations Seongwu has not and will not be able to share with him. The realization twists something inside of him. One color flooding his mind. Like a wobbling cup, the emotion carried by such color threatens to spill at any moment.

Seongwu plants a hand over his chest and collects himself fast. He secures the cup inside him to steady, away from the danger of tilting and spillage.

“Green.” Seongwu’s voice caught a little as he spoke, "The grass we're sitting on now is green." His fingers card through blades of grass. They’re crisp to the touch. "It's the color of freshness. How the earth smells after rain. A piece of watermelon in summer."

Minhyun licks his lips at the mention of watermelon. He shares his craving, imagining the taste of bursting sweetness flooding one’s mouth with a single bite. He presses his shoulder against Seongwu, a request in the language only the two of them share, and pleads for Seongwu to visit the market tomorrow and look for the loveliest watermelon.

But Minhyun’s sweet imploration falls on deaf ears with Seongwu still struggling against the waves of green threatening to drown him from the inside.

"Some say it's also the color of jealousy." Seongwu says with labored breath, like the first gasp of air upon surfacing from water.

He does not speak after.

"How about pink?" Minhyun asks, hand leaving his lap to settle over Seongwu’s. Seongwu’s hand is never warm, but now it is veiled by an unusual foreign coldness. Still, Minhyun keeps his hand in place. 

It takes Seongwu longer than usual to answer.

“It’s the color of kindness.” Seongwu says, and adds almost breathlessly, “It’s also the color dusting your cheeks right now.”

Minhyun’s fingers trail up his face, plump finger pads gently sweeping the unblemished canvas of his cheeks.

“It’s the color of sweetness. A lovely color.”

He stills at the sound of Seongwu’s voice. It’s thaw with sincerity again.

"And red?" Minhyun’s voice is laden with anticipation and something else. Gratitude, maybe. One which also colors his cheeks.

“Red,” Seongwu looks far ahead. The day is far from ending but words are already sparse in his mouth. Like treading a dark road without a matchstick, Seongwu struggles to find light in the form of words to convey to his friend, whose eyes are sparkling like the lake’s surface in anticipation. Finally, he settles with the following, young and inexperienced heart laid open with the words he chose to speak. “they say it’s the color of love.”

 

Seongwu was sixteen when he was invited by friends for an after-school hangout. It was winter then, the cold biting the tip of his nose.

He easily agreed, following them out of the school gates and into a close neighborhood. They enter a friend's house, silence welcoming them, not a parent in sight. The boys snicker, high fives exchanged among them and whispers of victory shared.

One led them to a room where Seongwu found himself sitting lonely on the bed. The room is almost bare save for the bed, the equally bare shelf to the right, and the television on the floor upfront. The other boys settle themselves on the floor and Seongwu is left to curiously stare at the top of their heads as they huddle over something. One boy emerges from the pile and goes to the player which Seongwu only discovers then, partly hidden by the television. The boy places a disc and scrambles back to the others, legs drawn to their chests and shoulders hunched in anticipation.

Seongwu postpones his curiosity and focuses his eyes on the screen. An English title was first flashed, then came a girl, clad skimpily in a skirt and a blouse which was barely buttoned. The camera pans to a man whose chest is already bare, and realization quickly dawns upon Seongwu. The boys beneath start to elbow each other in glee. Seongwu looks back to the screen to see the action starting. He can hear his friends' breaths, increasingly sounding ragged, exhales in staccato.

Seongwu can only sit there, eyes glued to the screen but not a thing stirring inside of him. The girl on the screen is beautiful and well-endowed, but Seongwu feels nothing but indifference.  Soon, the actions grew repetitive in Seongwu's eyes and boredom seizes him. His eyes drift to his classmates on the floor. One glance tells him they're an entirely different story from him.

He swings a leg over the bed, sole meeting the wooden floor in a muted thump. The movement catches a fraction of his friends' attention, catching him hoisting his bag to his back.

"Where are you going?"

Seongwu lazily walks towards the door and speaks his answer only when he's half out the room, "Home."

He closes the door behind him.

 

On the way home, the face of the girl returns in his mind. Like a plague, it refuses to leave no matter how Seongwu wills it to. He remembers her eyes and goosebumps trail his arm. He remembers her lips and shivers run down his spine.

Seongwu feels something coil in his stomach, crawling up his throat in light speed, making him lurch.

He presses his palm against his mouth and hurries home.

☀

 

Seongwu does not speak of it to Minhyun. It’s the first blue part of him he discovers and keeps to himself.

 

☀

 

They are seventeen with awkward long limbs and eyelids that are perpetually heavy with sleep.

The passing years saw Minhyun being molded into a fine young man. He grew tall. His face refined by adolescence, sharp lines and soft curves, worthy of every eyes’ envy. His shoulders broadened too, although he didn’t outgrow all of babyish roundness, a point which Seongwu likes to tease him about.

Adolescence blessed Seongwu, too. His height, although a few centimeters shy of his best friend’s, is already enviable. His jaw sharp, cheekbones high, arms and legs lean.

While Minhyun’s skin stayed rosy pink from staying indoors most of the time, Seongwu’s is painted a shade darker: sunkissed. Like the sun’s rays have been imprinted on his skin.

☀

 

Leaves grow and fall, flowers bloom and wither. But a constant remains with the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

There are things which changed and remained over the years.

The afternoon visits evolved into fixed dinner schedules and weekend sleepovers.

Seongwu still stops by every afternoon after his classes and Minhyun will always be there before he arrives, already seated at his designated place at the steps of the porch. Sometimes they would only talk outside until the sun sets in the horizon, other they would be inside Minhyun’s room, with Seongwu throwing himself down the bed while Minhyun maneuvers to place the latest CD he has bought of his favorite artist. Minhyun always finds his place beside Seongwu, shoulders touching as they lie together, before the first note of every song washes the walls of the room.

“We played soccer during lunch.”

Minhyun only hums in response but Seongwu knows his ears are all for him, always attentive to his words.

“Sungwoon and I decided to play on opposing teams. Guess which team won?” There was barely concealed giddiness in Seongwu’s voice. Minhyun’s face breaks in a smile. He was always one to indulge his best friend.

“Yours, of course.” Minhyun answers without a hint of doubt.

Seongwu snorts, moving his hands to place them under his head. “You trust me too much.”

“Should I not?”

Seongwu turns to Minhyun with his mouth agape in muted laughter, but it closes shut as Seongwu’s lungs constrict with all the air suddenly stolen from them.

Minhyun’s face is turned towards his, eyes leveled with Seongwu’s. The dying light of the day is in Minhyun’s hair, crowning him faintly like distant stars in the sky. Stillness takes over, where only the breaths escaping their noses and pulse beating thickly in their veins can be heard. Seongwu finds himself holding his breath.

Minhyun’s eyes are dark chocolate but golden under the light of the setting sun. The fact that they were unseeing almost escaped Seongwu’s mind, for they pulled him in like the tide. No matter how he tried to swim against it, they hold him down.

“Seongwu?”

The air which was caught in Seongwu’s throat finally escapes as a staggered breath. His heart begins to thunder inside his chest, pounding against his rib cage. He rises, afraid that the other would hear the riot which has started in his chest.

“Seong-ah?” Minhyun calls again. His soft voice piercing through Seongwu’s trance.

“Up to you.” Seongwu answers belatedly. His voice sounded hoarse and his throat suddenly felt parched. He leaves the bed and picks up the bag he has thrown at the foot and heads to the door. Before he twists the knob open, he spares one last look behind his shoulder.

Minhyun’s face was sweet with the orange sun setting behind him.

He trembles.

The first ripple to the surface of the once still waters of his heart.

☀

 

Later that night, Seongwu dreams of warm hands splayed on his back, fingertips dancing over his arm leaving a feverish trail on its wake. Eyes, deep like the earth, holding him down like swift current. A voice, whispering close to the shell of his ear, thick and heavy with warmth.

They all feel too real.

Seongwu is paralyzed in his bed, chained by this too vivid dream and the chilling familiarity of every single thing.

The hand on his back moves down, tortuously slow, sending bolts of shiver down his spine. They settle over his hip, fingers curling possessively on his skin. The voice speaks again, now chanting his name like a prayer. It’s spoken softly, lightly, like a gentle caress of a passing breeze on summer afternoons.

The figure suddenly vanishes and Seongwu finds himself being transported, standing before the glimmering lake under the summer sun. The diamonds dancing over lake prickle his eyes. The heat of the sun burning the top of his head. The fingers interlocked with his, warm—

_“What color is the sun?”_

Seongwu bolts awake, springing from the bed with beads of sweat trailing the side of his face. His heart is thundering inside his chest, his limbs numb. The soles of his feet and his fingers are ice-cold.

Seongwu feels it soon and throws the blankets aside.

A _damp spot_ , tainting the front of his shorts.

He rushes to the bathroom and splashes water to his face. The coldness awakening his senses.

A face flashes in his mind.

The girl from the movie, he recognizes.

He remembers the acid rushing up his throat. The burn. The knot in his stomach making him lurch at the side of the road.

 _Green_ , Seongwu now realizes, also means disgust.

But then the face is replaced, blurring like a channel cut off from signal. The new one which surfaces is with sharp lines and soft curves. One which Seongwu swears he knows the feeling under the pads of his fingers. The odd familiarity brings back the numbness which has paralyzed Seongwu in his sleep.

 _Minhyun_.

Realization came like a flood after a storm, Seongwu’s entire body prickling as he’s awashed with epiphany.

Suddenly, all Seongwu can see is yellow.

☀

 

It's the second part of himself he keeps from Minhyun, although this, he did not necessarily label blue. But this particular part of him, Seongwu tries his hardest to repress, to bury.

Even at only seventeen, Seongwu is aware of the possible consequence once these newly discovered feelings he harbors for his best friend is laid out in the open. There were too many things at risk. A slip of a tongue and actions fueled by raw emotions could cost him the friendship he has built with Minhyun over the years.

He does his best to keep things as they are. The daily afternoon talks and weekend sleepovers continue. Although Seongwu becomes increasingly mindful of the proximity he and Minhyun always share and now tries to keep a safe distance whenever they share the same space. If Minhyun noticed the changes, he does not mention it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you move like a cat?"

Minhyun is sprawled on the bed. His head is hanging off the side of the bed and his feet are planted against the wall. A rare sight where his hands are bare of books and his shirt crumpled from rolling on the bed all afternoon.

Seongwu is on the floor, eyes plastered on the comic book he has brought with him.

"A cat?" He processes and thinks back shortly. "I don't think so. Why?"

"Well, let me be the first one to tell you so."

"You still haven't answered my question." Seongwu closes his comic book and chucks it to his bag. He then turns towards the bed to give Minhyun his attention. "Why do you say I move like a cat?"

The left side of Minhyun’s lips lift in a smirk. "You stretch like one each time you wake up."

Seongwu's interest is piqued by Minhyun's words. In the countless nights he has spent over, never have they shared the bed. Seongwu have always took the floor, a futon cushioning his back.

"I could hear the rustling of the sheets each time, could imagine the drowsy tangle of your limbs." Minhyun says, addressing the question bubbling in Seongwu's mind. "You also make this noise. The one cats make when you rub their belly."

"Purring?" Seongwu's mouth supplies before his mind could stop him.

"Yeah. But more pronounce." Minhyun laughs, shoulders rubbing against the sheets as they bounce. "You remind me of Lily whenever you make that noise."

"So each of my waking moment reminds you of your dead cat."

"I don't mean that." Minhyun's voice is thin with teasing defense. A smile blooms its way to Seongwu's lips.

"And?" Seongwu asks. Minhyun hums at his question. "What more?"

"Your feet could also carry you silently. Like cats’ when they scavenge the kitchen for food at midnight."

"My steps are heavy though. Your mom told me I almost bore holes on the floor whenever I come running for a visit."

"But do you also remember the day we first met?" Seongwu's eyebrows raise in surprise, realizing they have never once talked about the day they met in their seven years of friendship. "You moved quietly back then, I almost missed you."

"But you didn't." Seongwu says, perching his chin on the mattress. "You still caught me."

"Barely. It was mostly the ball." Minhyun confesses. He moves his head to the side, close to where Seongwu has now planted his cheek on the bed. The riot inside of Seongwu starts again. At times like this, he's thankful Minhyun couldn't see the red covering his face like a tapestry.

"People say when you lose one of your senses, those which remain are sharpened more. Maybe that's it. I may not see you coming in but I'd recognize the sound of your steps from miles away. I may not see the rise and fall of your chest but I can recognize your every exhale. I may not know how your hands look, but I know exactly how they feel against mine."

Minhyun's breath hits Seongwu's cheek with every word that falls from his lips. It's warm, and it spreads like wildfire to every of his nerve-endings. Seongwu couldn't speak, the butterflies inside him holding his voice hostage.

"I think I'd recognize you even in another lifetime."

The words may have held different meanings compared to what Seongwu wants to hold them for, but it's more than enough to ignite a fire inside of him. To spark hope.

Seongwu gathers his strength once more and steals a glance at Minhyun whose eyes are now nailed at the ceiling. There is the faintest pink dusting his cheeks.

Seongwu realizes, as he lays there unmoving with Minhyun pressed warmly beside him, that there are things which should be pursued and cannot be left alone to fate. Answers lie at the end of the tunnel of pursuit and does not come to those who do not dare step into its uncertain darkness.

Along with this he realizes that maybe, he has nothing to lose along his way.

☀

 

Seongwu decides to test the waters. Dipping in his toes to check if the water is warm and welcoming. To see if it's safe to dive into.

He brings up topics which they hardly talk about, mentions names which are foreign to Minhyun's ears and even to his own tongue. He studies Minhyun's reaction carefully. Keen on every crease on his temple, the raise of his eyebrows, the downturn of his lips. But by far, the responses he receives are more of sheer curiosity than jealousy which Seongwu wishes to paint Minhyun's face. Instead, he gets a teasing laugh, a nudge on his shoulder and a congratulations for finally expanding his circle outside of Minhyun.

Seongwu's drive is dampened whenever Minhyun gives a reaction opposite to what he's waiting for. The fire inside him dwindles each time. But everytime he thinks of retreating, the words spoken by Minhyun that afternoon rings inside his head, as if a reminder, an encouragement, for him to continue and charge forward.

Seongwu decides to continue trying so long as the sun rises in the east at the beginning of each day.

☀

 

Seongwu comes back home after three-day excursion with a troubled heart and chaos in mind.

He has been confessed to, during the final night of the excursion, by a girl he has barely interacted with in his class.

The girl has listed the things she liked about Seongwu. His eyes. His laugh. The way he plays the guitar. How he's not rowdy like the other boys in class. How he helped her carry the books to the teachers’ quarters (this, Seongwu could not even remember). She likes the moles dotting his cheeks, the curve of his lips when he smiles and so much more. Seongwu lost count of them on his fingers.

Seongwu wasn't even able to process anything before the girl said he'll be waiting for an answer by next week. She left. The image of her back the only thing imprinted on Seongwu’s mind.

It's the first confession he has ever received and Seongwu is admittedly a novice in this department. He has always dealt with his own quietly (until recently, with his passive-aggressive subtlety towards Minhyun) and is now left grappling in the dark on how to deal with other people's feelings and expectations of him.

The day is ending, and with movements of his limbs he cannot recall, Seongwu finds himself sitting on the hard floor of Minhyun's room. He couldn't remember dragging himself out of bed and crossing the street to Minhyun's house, much less Minhyun's mother greeting him by the door and Minhyun acknowledging him upon entering the room.

As soon as he got his bearings back, Seongwu shoots up from the floor and moves to the bed. Minhyun bounces slightly at the other end of the mattress when Seongwu joins him.

"I think I have been confessed to." The words leave his mouth without preamble. There was an itch inside him all day. One he knows can only be soothed once he has spilled his thoughts onto someone. To Minhyun, particularly.

"You think?" Minhyun says after a few idle moments, fingers still sweeping over the pages of his book.

"By a girl."

Minhyun's throat bobs at the mention of a girl. Seongwu does not catch it.

"So, what did you think about it?"

"About what?"

"About the confession. About her."

Seongwu nibbles on his lips, eyes darting across Minhyun's room in search of words to encapsulate the turmoil inside of him.

"I, I don't know."

"Well, did it at least make you feel something?"

Seongwu's mind only points to one thing. _Confusion_. "Yeah, I guess."

Minhyun's fingers stop and hover the page. Slowly, they curl themselves into fist. Seongwu’s thoughts were all over the place to notice the change in Minhyun's face, dullness replacing Minhyun’s brilliance.

The sharp inhale Minhyun draws was enough to pull Seongwu out of his head.

"You should give it more thought." Minhyun says, swinging his legs off the bed and walking towards the shelf to return the book.

Seongwu stares blankly at his back while Minhyun stands idly by the shelf longer than usual.

"It's late. You should go home." Minhyun’s words sounded so distant but Seongwu again does not catch them. Maybe he was the distant one between them two in the first place, was never mentally present with Minhyun the entire time.

He absentmindedly agrees and vacates the bed. He bids Minhyun goodnight over his shoulder before exiting the room, closing the door without receiving a response from Minhyun.

 

It's only later when Seongwu is in his bed, slipping between consciousness and unconsciousness that he realizes it's the weekend. He was supposed to sleep over at Minhyun's. But his subconscious also reminds him it was Minhyun who sent him home.

He drifts.

He fails to realize that not once has he looked at Minhyun's face the entire evening.

☀

 

Seongwu was unable to give the girl a definite answer. He expects it to end, for his apparent uncertainty to cause everything to wither, but the girl is persistent and suggests a date instead. To help Seongwu arrive at definiteness, she says.

Seongwu is tongue-tied once again and the girl accepts it as a yes on her end. She recites a place and time for the coming Saturday and leaves, a little bounce in her steps. Meanwhile, Seongwu drags his feet home, mind all the more muddled.

"Had a rough day at school?"

Seongwu picks up his head to see Minhyun seated on the steps of the porch. For a second, he is brought back to when they were still ten year olds who had nothing to do with complicated feelings and jumbled thoughts brought by adolescence. Those were the good days, he thought.

"How did you know I was coming?"

"You were dragging your feet heavily." Minhyun says simply, eyes looking far away over Seongwu's shoulder just like the day they met. "And I told you, I'd be able to recognize you in any circumstance."

Seongwu masks a choke in a booming cough, Minhyun's words catching him off guard. The pink spreading in his cheeks a testimony how Minhyun's words have the power of bullets capable of bringing him down. He reminds himself to gear up each time.

When his fake cough subsides, he takes small steps towards Minhyun. The other scoots to leave a space beside him on the steps.

"So, what's got you dragging your feet all the way home?"

Seongwu couldn't hold back the sigh which falls from his lips. Now it comes everytime he's reminded of the lot on his plate.

"Same problem."

"Oh." Minhyun's back straightens, his face pulling in itself. "It's still about Yoonmi?"

"Yeah. I wasn't able to give her a definite answer so she suggested to have a date."

"A date?" Minhyun asks, surprise dripping in his voice.

Seongwu hums in answer.

Minhyun stretches his legs before him, fingers falling to mindlessly trace circles on his knee caps.

"That would be your first date then."

There's tautness in Minhyun's voice Seongwu has never heard before. Minhyun was always one to speak freely, his voice whole although soft at times. This is the first time for Seongwu to detect something else in his voice. As if he’s covering, holding something back.

"It will be." Seongwu answers, studying the side of Minhyun's face with the latter being oblivious to it.

He catches Minhyun's fingers curl on the fabric of his pants, catches him worry his lower lip. A shadow settles over his face, darkening it, a departure from its usual brightness.

These foreign clouds drawing over the sun sparks something inside of Seongwu.

"Minhyun," Their knees touch when Seongwu leans in to whisper the following words against Minhyun's hair, "should I go?" The faintest tremor crosses Minhyun’s face. "Or should I not?"

Seongwu backs away and waits for Minhyun to answer, anticipation and fear twisting inside of him. Long seconds pass and Minhyun's unseeing eyes only continue to move across the ground. Fear tramples anticipation and crawls up to curl around his throat.

"Hyun-ah." Seongwu almost pleads, "Say the word and I won't go."

☀

 

Saturday finds Seongwu a little sleep deprived but donned in his best jeans and the most decent top he owns.

His thoughts were running until late last night, forbidding him to succumb to sleep. The bags in his eyes are enough proof, but he prays his hair which he tediously styled for half an hour would be enough distraction to draw his _date's_ attention away from his eyes.

The sun is high up when Seongwu steps out. His eyes unwillingly fall on the house across the road.

He hasn't seen the other boy since that afternoon and Minhyun was nowhere in sight everytime Seongwu comes home. The words spoken by Minhyun back then floods his mind again. The very words which plagued his mind last night, chasing away the peace in his mind and robbing him of his precious sleep.

"What right do I have to hold you back, Seongwu?"

The words best friend were ready to fall from Seongwu's lips, but on a rare occasion where his mind overtakes the push of his lips, he realizes for the first time how he has come to detest those words so much.

 _Best friends_. Two words of great significance but also limiting for a person who tries to escape the walls those words hold.

Seongwu has witnessed too many occasions of Minhyun being bathed under daylight with the sun personally crowning him that he no longer wants to remain as a spectator in awe during those moments. Seongwu now wants to be part of it. To be the reason behind his brilliance. To be his own sun.

But the way Minhyun had spoken deafeatedly that afternoon with a smile which doesn't quite reach his eyes, killed all the words in Seongwu's mouth and the thoughts bubbling inside his mind. He remembers the warmth, although short lived, of Minhyun's hand over his before the other stood up and retreated inside the house. Seongwu was left there, mind ironically empty and with the sun setting on his left. Coldness crept in easily that night.

Seongwu scuffs his shoe against the pavement as he lets his eyes linger on the window for a few more seconds. When not even a shadow graces his sight, Seongwu pushes himself to walk and tear his eyes away. He tries his best not to drag his feet towards the bus stop.

He's waiting for the bus when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fishes it out to see a message from an unregistered number.

_Seong-ah, I managed to get here early so I checked the cinema. They have an action and a horror movie playing today. Which one do you prefer? See you in a bit! 😊_

It's Yoonmi, his mind supplies. He taps on the contact information to save it, however, a word catches his eyes before the screen changes.

He reads the message again, eyes stopping on the first word in the block of text.

_Seong-ah._

It's a nickname, used by the very few people close to Seongwu to address him. It's a nickname he knows Yoonmi is still not in the position to use. It's a nickname, which if spoken, brings a distinct voice inside Seongwu's mind. The voice of none other than person who coined it for him.

With nimble fingers, Seongwu types back a reply and tucks his phone back to his pocket. His heel digs on the ground as he turns around, breaking on a sprint to the place where his heart and mind tells him he should be.

Seongwu does not feel the burning of his lungs and the aching of his legs from running too hard. All that fills his mind is the a face of a boy and how he looked the first time Seongwu saw him that summer afternoon seven years ago.

The soles of his shoes screech as he comes to a stop. His feet stopping only for a second before they're marching up the porch again. The door is unlocked and nobody greets him when he enters. He closes the door behind him before his feet quietly carry him towards the room he has memorized like the back of his hand.

Minhyun is seated on the bed, eyes staring blankly outside the window. There's a book on his lap, unopened, and Seongwu immediately recognizes it as the one Minhyun was reading back on the day they first met.

"Minhyun."

Said boy's shoulders bounce in surprise. He turns towards Seongwu with wide eyes.

"Seongwu?" The words come out half chocked. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?"

It's only then that Seongwu feels the flame burning his muscles. He could feel the air leaving his lungs in short rapid breaths, but past his hazy thoughts and aching limbs, he decides he wouldn't mind losing them all if Minhyun is the cause behind it.

"Tell me I shouldn't go." Seongwu rasps, unmoving against the door. "Tell me not to go on that date."

"But Seongwu," Minhyun twists to face Seongwu fully. His face is filled with hesitation Seongwu wants nothing but to erase. "I already told you I have no right to say so."

"Then I'll give you the right." Seongwu says in one breath. His hands are trembling as he gathers the courage to say the following, "You are enough reason." They may be rash words, but they were spoken with all the conviction his heart holds. "If you tell me not to go, I won't see her anymore. I'll give her a definite no as soon as possible."

Minhyun remained unmoving on his spot, frozen. His fingers curl against the sheets, twisting them in desperate attempt to find solace. There's a revolution stirring inside of him and he has not an ounce of idea how to quell it. But the fire that’s burning in Seongwu's words and the flames raging in his eyes tell him maybe he's not alone in this uprising.

It felt like centuries before a movement shatters the glass air. The sheets rustle as Minhyun moves out of bed, bare soles kissing the floor as he stands and strides slowly towards Seongwu. He stops, leaving a step between them that feels like a mile and an inch at the same time.

Then, Minhyun's hand reaches for him, landing on his arm and sliding down his hand. His fingers find their home in between the spaces of Seongwu's own. Minhyun's hand is small, but it carries enough warmth to dispel all the coldness inside of Seongwu. 

"Then, allow me to be selfish this once." Minhyun takes the last step and their heads naturally gravitate towards each other. "Stay. Stay with me, Seongwu."

 ☀

 

They say change is the only constant in the world. Seongwu finds himself agreeing that change occurs to give way to betterment.

His relationship with Minhyun changed. Not in label, not yet, but in their actions and intentions behind the words they speak.

Seongwu’s eyes no longer wander to keep watch on the dwindling space between Minhyun's skin and his, exhales no longer bated everytime their hands brush. Instead, there's a comforting warmth which spreads through him everytime he and Minhyun so much as press their shoulders together, or when their toes meet accidentally while they move to sit more comfortably at the opposite ends of the bed. Seongwu still takes the floor every time he spends the night over, but he falls asleep with the feeling of Minhyun's ever warm palm pressed against his, the latter falling in comfortable sleep as well despite with his hand dangling on the side of the bed the entire night.

Things changed, but Seongwu does not ever want to look back.

☀

 

Minhyun turns eighteen first. He spends it simply, with his family and a few family friends. Seongwu does not miss it, of course. After dinner, the two silently retreat to Minhyun's room to observe their tradition: carrying out the celebrant’s wish until midnight as one’s birthday present.

Seongwu does not forget to bring his guitar with him. For the past few years, Minhyun's wish was always for Seongwu to sing him a song. The wish runs until the last minute of the day or until when Minhyun wishes so. More often than not, the tradition ends with Minhyun’s mother knocking on the door and telling them to retire for the evening.

He sits on the bed and positions the guitar on his lap in preparation. "First request?"

Minhyun is standing by the table, rummaging through the pile of CDs. His fingers procure out of the stack one that has a sticky note pasted on its cover.

"I'm having a different request for this year."

Seongwu tilts his head in question. It seems there will be a revision in their tradition effective this year.

"There's this song I've been listening to for the past few days." Minhyun walks back to where the player is, hands searching the floor for the chord.

Seongwu places his guitar down and leaves the bed to take the chord out of Minhyun's hand. He plugs it safely to the socket then takes the CD from Minhyun. It's a foreign artist, he deduces that much from the cover, with English words inscribed over it which Seongwu can barely comprehend.

"Play the fourth track." Minhyun instructs before leaving his side. Seongwu obediently presses the button and turns around with the plan of going back to the bed. But the plan is set aside when he finds Minhyun in the middle of the room, shoes discarded to the side and socked feet planted on the wooden floor.

"I wish to dance to this [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/6yIHGmQLJxWAUZ1ZkENemN?si=qTQPml-qSjet6vGG2W_J_A) with you." Minhyun says it bashfully, with his hands twisting at his back and toes curling inside his socks.

Seongwu’s mouth dries at the request. He can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows. He has never danced with anyone outside of academic requirement. As if growing roots out of his soles, Seongwu remains unmoving, planted on his spot on the floor.

"I, I'm bad at it."

Minhyun's laugh is as sweet as the melody washing the walls of the room. It's intoxicating.

"You can't be that bad." He extends an arm towards Seongwu, smile too inviting. "Come on."

Seongwu's limbs are moving before his mind could catch up, his hand naturally settling on Minhyun's waist. Minhyun's arms wrap around Seongwu's middle, bringing them closer, chests bumping with every step they take.

Together, they find a rhythm, one that matches the beating of their hearts. They move slowly, carefully, and avoids Seongwu’s nightmare of stepping on each other. Soon, Seongwu's eyes leave their feet to finally stare at the boy before him, whose eyes are crescent like moons with his cheeks bunched in glee.

"See, we're doing well. You're doing well."

Seongwu breathes a sigh of relief, squeezing Minhyun's waist in the process. He thinks like he’s gonna mess up soon, but the hands on his waist guiding him in every sway were enough for him to bite back the thoughts.

“Do you think he’s right?”

“Who?”

“The wise man.”

“Who?”

Minhyun scrunches his nose. A habit, one Seongwu knows he does when he catches Seongwu is not paying attention to what he’s pertaining to. “You clearly weren’t listening to the lyrics.”

“My mind was somewhere else.” Seongwu confesses.

Minhyun only smiles softly at him and lets it slide. As always.

“The lyrics say a wise man said only love fools rush into love.” Minhyun tries to focus his eyes where he believes Seongwu’s eyes are. He succeeds. “Do you agree with him?”

Minhyun’s eyes dug into his, sifting them for answers.

“We are all fools for love, regardless of whether we rush into it or take our time in walking ourselves into it.” The last notes of the song ebb away but they continue swaying, bodies pressing closer. Seongwu's focus trains on Minhyun’s soft exhales. He deems them enough melody to last him on his feet all night. “In the end, we all lose our minds for the right people.”

Minhyun does not reply, but his eyes luminous under the fluorescent light conveys his contentment with Seongwu’s answer. Seongwu couldn’t tear his eyes away, captivated, as Minhyun’s eyes seize him in their depth and mystery. Seongwu thinks they're the most beautiful pair he has ever seen.

"You have such pretty eyes." The words escape Seongwu’s mouth in a whisper.

Minhyun's eyes widen, pink rushinginn to color his cheeks. He leans his head against Seongwu's shoulder, muffling his snickers on the material of Seongwu's shirt.

"Thanks," Minhyun says as soon as he has straightened his back, "too bad they can't see you, though." It's spoken teasingly, with not a hint of bitterness or sorrow.

"It doesn't matter." The response is automatic, surprising Seongwu himself. "You'd still be able to recognize me without them."

Minhyun lips part but no words come out. He closes them, purses them in a line and tries to gather his words again.

"Is it enough?" Minhyun's voice is somber, thick with doubt.

Seongwu wanted to bring him deeper into his arms and never let go.

"It's more than enough."

☀

 

Seongwu turns eighteen two weeks later. With Minhyun deviating from his usual birthday request, Seongwu decides to come up with a new one for his birthday as well.

After dinner, he leads Minhyun carefully up the stairs and into his room. He seats him on the bed before turning to his bookshelf to retrieve something.

"Are we not dancing ‘til midnight this year?" Minhyun asks, ever so perceptive. He's got his arms crossed against his chest and a corner of mouth lifted smuggly.

"No." Seongwu confirms, walking back to the bed with a book in hand. "My wish this year is quite simple. You just have to help me with something."

Minhyun's eyebrow raise. "What is it?"

Seongwu stops for a second, fingers digging into the leaves of the book. The idea struck him the morning after Minhyun's birthday. It scared him at first, thinking back to everything which has led them to whatever they are today. However, a greater part of himself reminds him how results are never handed on a plate. He has to take the step.

Which brings him to this, hands trembling but with a resolute heart ready to risk everything with a single question.

"I need your help to read this." He opens the book and places it under Minhyun's hand.

Minhyun instantly feels the bumps raised on the paper. It's Braille. Which is peculiar. He's positive Seongwu does not own any Braille material. 

Seongwu holds his breath as Minhyun’s fingers start to sweep down the dots.

"You want me to read this for you?" Minhyun asks, the pads of his fingers pressing over the dots meticulously.

Seongwu nods his head, too nervous to speak, but realizes soon that Minhyun couldn't see him and forces out a meek _yes_.

"It says," Minhyun goes over the final block, lips pursing as he pieces the words together. "Will you go out with me?"

"Will you?" Seongwu follows lowly, the words spoken like a secret only for Minhyun's ears to hear.

The world seems to have stopped with Minhyun's hand freezing over the page. Seongwu feels the cold seeping into him, the long pause shared between them paralyzing him. The silence which falls over them was so profound that Seongwu could hear the whistling of the air outside.

"Minhyun," Minhyun's eyes snap at the mention of his name. They move slowly to meet Seongwu's own. "I'm in love with you."

☀

 

"You never sit close to me again."

Seongwu's eyes gravitate towards Minhyun who's seated on his bed across the room. Minhyun has abandoned his book on the sheets, fingers drumming against his kneecaps instead of its usual slow dance over the pages of his book.

It's been two weeks since Seongwu's birthday.

Since Minhyun told him he's in love with him too.

The emotions brought by the confession was inexplicable. No word would be able to encapsulate the sensation which overcome the both of them the moment their hearts were finally laid bare for each other. Everything felt like they have fallen into place.

But for some reasons, days after, the same jitters which seized him from the moment of his epiphany until before his confession have returned to paralyze him again. Albeit now, tenfold stronger.

For reasons he cannot explain, he cannot bring himself close to Minhyun. Even sitting just a meter away from the other already makes his skin burn, as if set on fire. His nerves are tingling whenever Minhyun is around. He's aware of the brewing inside of him, his gut feeling telling him that if left uncontrolled, would lead him to wreak havoc.

He's been antsy for weeks and he knows it's only a matter of time until Minhyun points it out.

"Is there something wrong?" Minhyun’s words are slightly muffled behind the pillow he has placed between his legs and his chest.

"No, nothing's wrong." Seongwu's response is quick, praying it carries the assurance he wants to deliver to Minhyun. He looks up to see the other with his face troubled. Seongwu fiddles with his hands and contemplates. "It's just that. I think I'm afraid."

Minhyun lifts his cheek off the pillow to stare at the direction where he thinks Seongwu hopefully is. "Scared of what?"

He breathes out, lifting his eyes to catch Minhyun's already trained on him. He is nestled in the middle of Seongwu's bed, hair in disarray from burying himself on Seongwu's pillows, legs tangled amongst blankets and sheets twisted beneath him. It's a rare sight to have Minhyun is in his room. A sight to behold.

And like winter ice cracking at the first sign of spring, clarity breaks into Seongwu’s troubled mind, washing away the confusion.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back." Seongwu confesses, voice piercing the tranquility which has blanketed the room.

Tension thickens in the air. They both remain unmoving where they are, their exhales sounding louder over the silence.

"Come here."

Seongwu almost misses Minhyun's low request among the turbulence of his own thoughts. His feet move at once, bringing him towards the bed in small steps. Minhyun's holds out a hand for him and Seongwu gently reaches for him, slipping his fingers in the spaces of Minhyun’s own. Minhyun pulls him closer, their knees meeting with the proximity.

"What would you do if you weren't afraid?" The circles Minhyun’s thumb are tracing on the back of his hand releases Seongwu from the chaos in his mind.

"I," He hesitantly raises a hand, suspending it mid-air before placing it gently against Minhyun's cheek. It's warm. Everything about Minhyun has always been warm. "I'll hold you like this."

Minhyun closes his eyes and turns his head slightly to place a feather light kiss on Seongwu's palm. "And?"

His slides out of Minhyun's hold to encase the other cheek. He leans in, bringing their faces closer. "I'd kiss you."

Minhyun covers Seongwu's hand with his, whispers the following words a breath away from Seongwu's lips. "Then don't hold back."

Their lips meet and it's beyond Seongwu could ever expect. Like a collision of stars, the feeling of Minhyun's lips moving against his is a force enough to send his world toppling off its axis. Everything else wither in Seongwu's mind. He could not think, could not do anything but drink him in, steal each breath before it escapes his lips, swallow each sound he makes before the wall’s ears catch them.

They press against each other, mouths opening against each other, hands traveling, carding, mapping. The yearning for each other’s touch was like hunger.

When they part, slowly, like dusk settling in, they become aware of the world beyond each other’s arms again; the soft beginning of rain tapping on the roof melting the blockades the kiss has set up in their senses. Their feet strike the earth again. But as Seongwu witnesses Minhyun's eyes fluttering open, their depth magnetizing and pulling him, he couldn’t help but think he's found a new world he would gladly make a home into.

☀

 

When they finally become one, it’s with the moonlight slithering into the room to bathe MInhyun’s skin in ethereal glow.

Seongwu lowers him on the bed with a hand on his chest, the steady thrumming of Minhyun's heart under his skin etched into Seongwu’s memory. When Minhyun's back hits the sheets, Seongwu is reminded of the sun lowering itself at the end of each day. This, with Minhyun under him and eyes filled with nothing but trust and faith for him, convinces Seongwu that the sun is indeed the most beautiful when it sets.

☀

 

They’re twenty-four, and yet they find themselves back under the shades of the trees lining around the lake one summer afternoon.

They have outgrown traces of their youth, limbs dull and heavy from life, but hearts burning the same flame of timeless love.

Seongwu squints up the sky to see the sun nestled at the center of the vast sky. It's a familiar view, with its brilliance undiminished despite passage of time. 

“Hey. Remember when you asked me to describe colors for you when we were fifteen?”

Minhyun's head leaves Seongwu’s shoulder, arms stretching lazily over his head. He nods and holds out a hand, the cup of his palm catching sunlight. A mirror of a scene from nine years ago. 

“You told me the sun was yellow, and that yellow is happiness.”

Seongwu smiles at Minhyun’s recounting, echoing the same words Seongwu spoke of years ago.

“The sky is blue. It could mean serenity or sadness. Green, freshness, like earth after rain. Pink for kindness, and the color of my cheeks.”

“And love?” Seongwu interjects, “What’s the color of love?”

“Red.” MInhyun answers without hesitation. The smile which blooms in his lips alike that of a child who has been rewarded with sweets.

Seongwu lets the laugh bursting from his chest travel to his mouth. When it subsides, he leans in to catch Minhyun in surprise with a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s yellow.”

Minhyun’s brows knit together. Seongwu can almost see the gears turning inside his head to recall the exact words Seongwu used nine years ago. “Pretty sure you said red.”

Seongwu hums, reaching for Minhyun’s hand to link it with his. “Perhaps for others, but for me, it’s yellow.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Seongwu takes his time to study Minhyun's face. There's no mistaking it's the only face he wants to wake up to for the rest of his life. Slowly, he pulls the ring out of  his pocket and slips it on Minhyun’s finger.

It fits perfectly.

“Love is dark chocolate eyes which turn golden under the light of the setting sun. Love is the dying daylight crowning a messy tuft of hair on lazy afternoons. Love is singing and dancing until midnight, laughing until our voices are hoarse. Love is deciphering blocks of raised dots on paper. Love is meeting a boy with a horrible haircut on a summer afternoon when you’re ten. Love is recognizing someone without the aid of one's eyes. Love is radiance, warmth. Love is the son of the sun himself.”

Minhyun feels the ring around his finger. It circles his finger warmly, like every embrace Seongwu gifts to him at the beginning of each day. 

“Love is you and nothing else.”


End file.
